Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Vanuatu and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Erykah Badu to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Vogues,
Inner City,
Black Pus,
48th St. Collective,
Eric Dolphy,
The Busters,
Outsiders,
The Martian,
Pagans,
Monks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
World's Most,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Fortunes,
Freddie Wadling,
Ronnie Foster,
Pantytec,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Cowsills,
Technova,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Avey Tare,
The Human League,
The Buckinghams,
The Happenings,
Steve Hackett,
Desert Stars,
EPMD,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
R.M.O.,
The Gladiators,
Q and Not U,
The Five Americans,
U.S. Maple,
Negative Approach,
Deepchord,
Marcia Griffiths,
Stereo Dub,
KRS-One,
Sonny Sharrock,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Severed Heads,
Sarah Menescal,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pere Ubu,
Quantec,
Glenn Branca,
Nils Olav,
Eve St. Jones,
Letta Mbulu,
Jeru the Damaja,
Easy Going,
Sound Behaviour,
Interpol,
The Knickerbockers,
Alphaville,
Agent Orange,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.